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User blog:MacTheEpic/13 and the Psychic Conclusion (1: The Tuna)
Merry Christm- Oof, darn it. I guess I'm late. :( Well, here's a late Christmas gift for you guys. I'd say that I've been working on the story for a while but it just popped into my head like a day or two ago. Its been a while since I've written something on here, and while I'm not necessarily here to stay, I'm going to try to finish this story for you guys. Hope you guys enjoy, and feel free to ask me about whatever in the comments. Oh, and sorry if the narration seems emo or over-dramatic at times. It's supposed to be like that, 'cause it's kind of a noir-type thing. Description: 13's tuna goes missing. He's pretty shook up about it. ----------------------'Thirteen and the Psychic Conclusion - The Tuna'----------------------- The pitter patter of the rain had been going on for so long and so alike that our windows were starting to look like moving paintings. Of course, we didn't have any paintings at the Zimmer residence. Eva thought they were too pretentious (ironic, right?), and every time Edgar looked at a painting he always made the same observation: "This is gay." It was the worst storm the town had seen in ages, and definitely the worst one we'd seen in our lives. There had been moments where the rain calmed, but so far it hadn't failed to thunder on. The dark clouds locked the town into night, and as of late it'd been getting so bad that I was almost beginning to forget what the sun looked like. My trance broke at the sound of the television turning on. I heard the channels flip through their usual sequence: Godzilla knock-off, a hockey game, and a barrage of paid programming. But it wasn't those I paid attention to, I only cared about what channel the TV landed on. If it was the Discovery Channel or, really anything that sounded nerdy, that meant it was Eva. But if I heard some low-budget karate show-- "CHOP! POW! BOOM-BOOM KICK! YOU WILL NEVER DEFEAT ME, LUNG-SU!" It was Edgar. I turned around and hopped up on the couch next to him. I looked at his eyes, eyes taking refuge from our dreary world in one where boom mics followed unenthusiastic actors around a greenscreen, filled with bad special effects and story that had gone on for far too long. The world didn't seem much better than ours, but Edgar believed it was. He burped, a burp releasing noxious fumes that derailed my thoughts once again. "Man, I'm hungry," he rubbed his belly. "Same, go get me something," I said. He crossed his arms, "I'm watching my show, you go get me something." Jinxed, the show abruptly cut to a screen with large text: BREAKING NEWS. It played an obnoxious jingle that bragged about stealing airtime from Edgar's program. I crossed my arms back, "Now you're not, so go get me a can of tuna, please." He stood up and groaned, "Man, this sucks! How come you always eat tuna? They're such a pain to get, you put them all the way at the back of the fridge." "You're psychic," I shrugged, "just make it float to you." "Rude, you know our powers haven't worked in over a year, 13." "Correction," the TV remote zipped into my hand, "your ''powers haven't worked in over a year. Mine and Eva's are just fine." "Yeah, what's the deal with that? How come you get to keep yours?" He crossed his arms tighter. I shrugged. "God! I feel like such a loser, what am I supposed to do without my powers? Be normal?" I shrugged again, "It's what everybody else does." "Well, everyone else is lame, then," he grumbled, moping off to the kitchen. Edgar Zimmer, one half of the once-famed Zimmer Twins, he wasn't as dumb as most people made him out to be. Idiot's a strong word, but he wasn't as smart as his sister, so he naturally slipped into that role by no fault of his own. In fact, he had a slightly above average intelligence, and any claim of a lack of one in the first place was wrong. He had a mixed potrayal when it came to movies, some users would make him mentally challenged, others recognized his averageness and put him on an equal level to Eva. Both were wrong, but the latter's more accurate. But if he had anything over Eva, it was personality. Nicer, funnier, genuine-er, one could argue he's the more tolerable half of the twins. Or ''was, anyway. As of late he'd been more irritable, he kind of lost his cheer as he lost his powers. I wish I could say that was the only reason, him losing his powers, but it wasn't. You could better trace his moodiness back to the shutdown. Eva and I knew it was a long time coming, but Edgar took it hard. He always loved the adventures and the lights and that faded old glory, and so did I. But the difference was that I had already let go long before they closed. The Twins had stayed 12 for too long, and the birthday cake of their unknown future tired of waiting. Sometimes I would catch Edgar looking at the archived adventures he saved. There was the one with the origin story that I made up on the spot, the one with a plethora of unlicensed characters (it's a miracle that the kid who made it didn't get sued), the countless reality show rip-offs, and the one with the dimension hopping that had lost its plot somewhere along the way. All of the adventures were true and happened, more or less. Except maybe that first one. Never met a guy named Deep Throat, but if I had I'd ask him how he got past the ZT censors. Yep, all happened while we were in that movie studio that froze us in time. And now we were finally older. I looked back to the TV, the breaking news report was still on. "-and if you look right here, you can see that the whole storm still covers half the country! Meteorologists are still baffled as to why-" As to why the storm is still active, why the storm is even a thing in the first place, why it hasn't lost momentum. They're not baffled as to one thing. They're just baffled. They're clueless. Welcome to the club. The rest of the report was predictable: "The storm shows no sign of stopping," "unsafe, slippery roads," "I'm bad at my job." Et cetera. Edgar finally returned, empty-handed. "What the heck? Where's my tuna?" I frowned. "We're out," he shrugged. "BS. I bought five boxes full of the stuff to ride out the storm." "Well, you shoulda bought more," he sat down, "because we're out." My bathrobe suddenly felt uncomfortable and I shifted around and adjusted myself. "Check again," I commanded. "I did, I searched the entire fridge, no tuna." "What about the-" "Nothing in the pantry, either." I lowered my voice, "Did you check my secret stash?" He nodded. I turned my head away from him. Something was up. My only solace in this dark world, gone. I ran to go check for myself. I threw the junk out of the fridge and turned it inside and out trying to find my tuna. Nothing. I did the same to the pantry, and I looked through its small nooks and crannies. I found abandoned mouseholes and old, discounted VIP memberships. Useless. No tuna. In the attic, I bumbled through the secret box. Nothing, just my old magazines and trusty Buns of Steel VHS tape. The tape was the only bastion of truth in a world where mass media created its own. Freaked, I almost slipped on my bathrobe on the way down the stairs. I quickly grabbed Edgar and shook him. "EDGAR! MY TUNA IS MISSING." "I know," he shrugged, taking my paws of him, "we all have our struggles." I grabbed him again, and shook harder. "EDGAR! MY TUNA IS GONE! THE ONLY THING THAT GRANTS ME JOY AND HAPPINESS IN THIS MISERABLE WORLD IS GONE! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TRAGEDIES TUNA HAS GOTTEN ME THROUGH? EVERY TIME SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAPPENS, I DON'T EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT BECAUSE I HAVE MY TUNA!" "13, calm do-" "LIKE, 'OH, 13, YOUR FAVORITE SHOW IS CANCELLED,' OR, 'OH 13, GUESS YOU'RE AN ORPHAN, WHOOPS LOL,'" "It's just tu-" "I WOULD ALWAYS TELL THEM 'PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT, I GOT MY TUNA, WHO CARES?'" "Okay, well that's a bit troubling, don't you thi-" "WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO TELL THEM NOW, EDGAR?" "I don't know!" "WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY WITHOUT MY TUNA!?!?!" Feet quickly stomp-rushed down the stairs. "WHAT THE HECK IS WITH ALL THIS RUMPUS?" yelled Eva. "MY TUNA IS GONE!" I threw my arms toward her, releasing Edgar. "SO?" She threw arms back. "IT'S MY SOURCE OF POWER! WITHOUT IT, I'M NOTHING!" "GO BUY SOME MORE, THEN!" "I BOUGHT FIVE WHOLE BOXES! I'M NOT GONNA THROW THAT MONEY AWAY!" "THEN FIND IT." "I DON'T KNOW WHERE-" "MAYBE SOMEONE STOLE IT, I DON'T KNOW, JUST SHUT UP! I'M WORKING ON SOMETHING!" "'Shut up' is rude," Edgar chimed in, "ZT would've never allowed such behavior-" "THEN IT'S A GOOD THING IT'S NOT OPEN ANYMORE! GOD!" she stomped back upstairs, "MOVE ON!" The sounds of her rampage stopped with a door slam. I was left to simmer in my thoughts on the couch. Edgar kept flipping the channels. "Stolen?" Edgar shook his head, "Yeah, right." "Stolen?" I murmured, "Impossible." For starters, there's no way anyone could've gotten in the house without us knowing. All the doors are locked, we didn't hear or see any broken windows, and as far as we know, our house has no secret entrance of any kind, no clichéd tunnels hidden behind bookshelves or faux floor tiles. Also, I'm fairly certain no one would trek through town during the storm of the century to steal some poor cat's tuna supply. It didn't make any sense, but it was the only explanation. "I have to get my tuna back," I frowned. "Pfft, good luck with that," Edgar smirked, "wherever your tuna is, it's not in this house." He motioned outside, "Which means it's somewhere out there, and that storm isn't gonna let up anytime soon." I slumped down on the couch and sighed. He nudged my shoulder, "Hey, maybe you just ate it," he flicked my belly, "you have been packing on the pounds lately." He was right, I had been packing on the pounds. But those pounds of fat were nothing compared to the pounds of emotional trauma weighing on my tortured, tuna-deprived mind. It was hard not to gain weight with the rain and all. It'd been going on for so long that the only exercise I'd been able to get for the past few weeks were the walks I had to take to get my tuna. Those walks, now purposeless. Without my tuna I was now fated to be a fat, powerless, blob forever. But I hadn't eaten all my tuna. I'd been counting, rationing the cans out. I still had at least 3 1/2 boxes left. The doorbell dinged, my ears sharpened. I looked over to Edgar. He did a double take and looked at me. "What are you waiting for?" He frowned, "I looked for your tuna, it's your turn to get up and get the door." "Fine," I groaned. I couldn't think of anyone who was crazy enough to be outside during one of the storm's tantrums. Mormons, Jehovah's witnesses, non-VIPs, none of them would ever think of doing this. I opened the door, and saw no one. "Darn prankst-" I looked down at the doormat and saw it. A can of tuna. I quickly snatched it and headed back inside. Eva had joined Edgar on the couch. "Guys, something's definitely wrong here," I held up the can of tuna. "Oh good," said Eva, "you found your tuna." "What? No! Don't you know what this means?" I said, "Someone did ''steal my tuna! And this can is a message from them." "Oh no, he's senile," Eva nudged Edgar. "Well, his age was bound to catch up with him sometime," Edgar shrugged. Before we continue let me just say that if you're familiar with the Zimmer Twins, then you know I'm not a normal cat. Meaning, I don't age like one either. In regular cat years, I should be dead by now, but in psychic cat years, I'm still pretty young. Translated into human years, I'd say I'm probably in my early-twenties. So no, I'm not senile. And I'm not old either. I opened my can of tuna, inside was a note. Reading it aloud: '"FROM ROE - I HAVE STOLEN ALL OF UR TUNA. CATCH ME IF U CAN, MR. ZIMMER."' He abbreviated 'your' and 'you' even though he could've taken the time to write them out. Bastard. "Well, that sucks," said Eva. "Yeah," Edgar nodded, "better luck next time, 13." "Wha-? You guys aren't going to help me with this?" Eva shook her head, "Too dangerous in the rain, and obviously someone insane enough to steal tuna in these conditions isn't someone you want to mess with." "Fine! I guess I'll just have to do it myself!" I scrambled up the stairs and threw off my bathrobe. I had a suit just for the occasion. I picked a black suit jacket with a classic white shirt and black tie. I pulled on a dull colored trench coat and yanked up the collar to let it hold my neck. I then made my way through Edgar's mess that he calls a room and dusted off his black fedora. I nestled it on my head and ran to Eva's room, and grabbed her diary. Half of it was already full of the over-analyzing, mundane, over-compensating details of her normal life, but the other half was empty. An emptiness waiting to be filled by the details that would help me piece together this tuna trickery. The diary and its accompanying pen were covered in glitter and pink fluff, but they were enough for this hardboiled, tuna-broiled, psychic-purring detective. I scurried back downstairs. "Aw, he looks adorable," said Eva. "Wait, is he actually going out there?" Edgar's eyes widened. I opened the door. With the lightning and hard-pouring rain in front of me, and me with my whole detective get-up, I probably looked just like a gumshoe straight out of those dark and cynical mystery books that Heidi used to read to me. Funny, at that moment, I felt just like those books. "Wait, 13-" Edgar started, but I was already out the door, and shut it behind me. I tipped my hat downward and walked into the dark towards the town, the wind was rushing against me, trying to push me back. It was like the world knew this wasn't going to end well, and was trying to stop me. That was too bad. Because I wasn't going to listen. ---- So that's the first chapter there. You can take 13's narration humorous or dramatic, it doesn't really affect the story, but it'll greatly affect it's tone. I'd recommend you find a balance between the two but if you can't then just go with your preferred tone/mood. I can't make any promises as to when the next chapter'll come out. Maybe tomorrow or the day after that, but just know I'm gonna try to finish this story, and if I take a break I'm probably just a bit busy or planning the next chapter (the story actually does have a rough outline to it). This--for me, at least--is meant to be an ending for the Zimmer Twins' story. Don't get me wrong, it's not an ending ''to the Zimmer Twins, just the last chapter of their tale. A definitive "end". Hope you guys are okay with that. Anyway, lemme know if you enjoyed your Christmas present, and if you caught any of the easter eggs in there (there's going to be quite a bit of them). Mac Out! Category:Blog posts